


until dawn.

by cultleaderphil



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cultleaderphil/pseuds/cultleaderphil
Summary: “I had a nightmare,” Dan says.“Again?” Phil rubs at the age-lines etched into his forehead. “I told you to stop playing those horror games.”There’s a fleeting silence. Phil becomes acutely aware of the ticking clock in the lounge.“Can I sleep with you?”





	until dawn.

“Dad?”

Phil inhales deeply. The voice that calls to him is soft, barely a breath in the silence of midnight, but in his state of limbo between conscious and not it wakes him with ease. Eyes fluttering open, he struggles against the combined efforts of sleep and poor vision to make out the figure stood in his doorway, although he doesn’t need sight to know who it is – he would recognize his son’s presence without any senses at all.

“Daniel?” Phil’s stubble catches the pillowcase as he rolls over, pushing up onto one elbow. “What is it?”

Dan side-steps awkwardly in the hallway light; Phil notes that his silhouette has heightened dramatically as of late, on track to surpass even his own. Regardless, Phil can still see his little boy in the way Dan tugs at the hem of his shirt.

“I had a nightmare,” he says.

“Again?” Phil rubs at the age-lines etched into his forehead, at the indents on his nose where thick-rimmed glasses sit at better hours of the day. He cards a hand through his hair, darkness aiding in hiding the grey strands his home dye job had missed. “I told you to stop playing those horror games.”

There’s a fleeting silence. Phil becomes acutely aware of the ticking clock in the lounge.

“Can I sleep with you?”

The request is not unexpected. With his frontal lobe and limbic system in dispute, Phil’s body makes the final decision; shuffling into the cool space farthest from the door, he confines his long legs to one side of the queen-sized bed.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Hop in.”

Laying back down against the fresh pillow Phil stares at the empty ceiling, even as the hallway light flicks off and soft footsteps pad into the room. The bed dips under his son’s weight, although surely not enough for his size and age – the paternal part of his brain flares, urging him to check on Dan’s health when the sun comes up.

“I thought I heard a werewolf.” Dan huffs a laugh as he slips between the sheets, wrapping himself up in warm blankets. “But I think it might have just been your snoring.”

“Don’t get cheeky,” Phil warns. “Next time I’ll let it eat you. You’re too old for this.”

“Mm, okay,” Dan hums, unfazed by the empty threat. He snuggles deeper into the bed; Phil can feel him curled on his side, close but not quite touching. “Goodnight, Papa Bear.”

“Night, Danny.”

The wind outside blows calmly, mingling with Dan’s breathing as it evens out from short puffs to long, deep gushes. As the teen drifts off beside him, Phil’s eyes adjust to the moonlight snaking in around drawn blinds. He listens, blinking languidly along with the sound of life beside him.

It takes no time at all for Dan to shift closer. Just like clockwork, he emits a wonted grumble before moving in like a magnet, sticking to his father’s side. All but the skin of his arms is concealed by pyjamas, yet the warmth of his being radiates through even the thickest of fabric. Tension rises in Phil’s muscles when Dan settles once more, another tranquil, hot exhale plaguing his neck with goosebumps. As his son’s body presses, flush and full, against his own, Phil closes his eyes and ignores the spark that shoots up his spine.

 

Phil’s second bout of waking is much slower – a sluggish, feeble drag from the tail-end of REM. The bedroom is still dark, this time without an angelic glow from the hallway. He wonders, briefly, what had sparked his alertness. The answer comes to him quickly, and brings with it a full-body shiver.

Dan is still squeezed to his side – closer, if possible – but rather than his former relaxed breaths, he’s panting. One hand is fisted in the front of Phil’s t-shirt, giving some imaginary leverage to his hips as they rut, paced but desperate, against his thigh. Choking on a gasp Phil stills entirely and, as Dan gives another needy thrust, feels the hard cock grinding against him. 

“ _ Oh _ .”

Despite his near-handful of decades on this Earth, nothing could keep that primal sound from escaping Phil’s lips. For a moment he’s scared to even move, although it’s not a fear of of facing the fact his son is experiencing a wet dream with his bare leg as its catalyst, but one of waking him from it. Holding his breath through the blood-rush has Phil going dizzy and there’s absolutely nothing he can do to stop his cock from growing rock hard. It tents his silk boxers, the tip slipping out of their unbuttoned opening, and Phil just lays there.

There’s a crippling worry in Phil’s mind that his own hammering heart will rouse Dan, but it soon proves to be  irrational. Dan doesn’t wake, nor does he stop; he makes soft, happy sounds as he ruts his fleece-covered cock forwards. Phil’s arousal absolutely throbs. He can smell Dan’s hair, artificially-straight and shampoo-sweet, and longs with such intensity to touch himself. The most he can manage is turning his head to the side.

Enough moonlight remains to illuminate Dan’s face. It’s close; as close as can be without slipping off the pillow that supports him, cute nose buried in its white, feathery softness. His eyes are still closed, long lashes casting flittering shadows across his visible cheek, and his full lips hang ajar. He looks peaceful but undoubtedly pleasured. Every regretful thought, every despicable dream, every unforgivable fantasy he’s ever had comes back to Phil in that moment. It’s then he realizes he’s touching Dan.

The press of his palm to Dan’s back is innocent routine – a comforting, fatherly touch of familial love. Phil uses its brace for the exact opposite. Pulling Dan in closer has him thrumming from head to toe, and he fails to remember a time he’s ever felt this turned on – not even while conceiving the boy himself. The self-disgust he feels at that is drowned almost immediately by another surge of desire. Before he can overthink it, Phil slides his hand down, down, until he’s cupping his son’s firm, little ass.

“Fuck.”

He gropes him, tight and hungry. The squeeze has Dan’s hips rocking with more insistence, the fingers tangled in his shirt twitching. Phil doesn’t even notice when his eyes slip shut, so overcome with the sensation, hand roaming over Dan’s ass. They snap back open when Dan speaks.

“Dad.”

Terror strikes, but Dan’s face stays the same. It takes a few frozen seconds for Phil to realize he’s still asleep.

“Daddy.”

Dan’s back arches as he mutters through slumber. Keen and desperately close, he hooks a leg over Phil’s waist, thigh brushing his leaking cock; Phil grunts and brazenly slides his hand down the back of Dan’s pants. His skin is smooth beyond belief. Feeling him up, Phil encourages Dan’s clumsy little spasms as he ruts, ruts, then goes perfectly still.

The tremble is only obvious because of how close they are. Phil’s mouth drops open as the wet patch spreads through the crotch of Dan’s pants. He can feel the hot come soaking through onto his thigh.

“Jesus, fuck.”

Burying his nose in Dan’s hair, he holds his baby boy through his orgasm. They both breathe heavily, only slightly out of sync. The sticky warmth cools. Dan’s eyes flutter open.

They don’t look away from one another; Dan’s pupils expand with revelation, but don’t flick away. With his dorment hand, Phil brushes the overgrown fringe from his forehead and traces the shape of his cheek, fingers skimming under Dan’s lax bottom lip. Dan shivers.

“You look beautiful like this,” Phil whispers.

Tilting his head, he brushes their noses together. Dan surges upward and kisses him.

The tongue in his mouth is inexperienced and rogue, yet arousing all the same. It’s also undeniably his son’s, as is the pitchy mewl he swallows. Phil bundles him closer and kisses back, accepting Dan’s open, slick mouth for what it is. He moans, running a palm down Dan’s slim side.

“Daddy,” Dan gasps, and it sounds so different now – so different to when he had stopped using it, years ago. The way it affects Phil has changed, too. “Please.”

“Dan,” Phil gushes, large hands roaming his petite, yet well-matured form. “We shouldn’t.”

“I want you,” Dan says, lanky limbs shifting so he’s half-laid atop his dad, unable to get enough contact. His mouth moves to Phil’s neck and just licks, lapping up the taste of sleep-sweat. “So badly. I haven’t been having nightmares, I just –  _ want you _ .”

“Fuck, Daniel.” Phil sinks into the mattress as Dan gracelessly shuffles down, forehead digging into his chest.

“You smell so good,” Dan whines, drunk on his afterglow and the hypnagogic absurdity of all that’s happening. Edging lower, he nuzzles his nose into Phil’s boxers right beside his pulsing cock and inhales. “You always smell so good.”

Phil’s mind flashes a memory of the laundry day just past; it reminds him of how his hand had stilled for too long on a pair of red underwear, of how he had breathed in so, so deep. His hips buck.

“Shit,” is the most he can manage with Dan’s plush mouth so close to his cock. He’s past his breaking point, morality long dead, and things have become so twisted that the twinge of guilt he feels when he takes Dan by the hair and moves him onto his dick makes things so much hotter. 

Dan’s eyes seem to roll back before they slip closed. Through damp silk he wraps a hand around the shaft and pants hotly against the escaped tip, allowing Phil to buck it against his wet, open lips.

“Use your tongue, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Dan listens. Poking out his soft, pink tongue he licks over the slit, cleaning up the beads of pre-come that had begun to spill over the tip. At the same time he moves his hand, dragging the tight grip up and down, pulling the foreskin back by proxy. Pleasure grips Phil in a blazing heat, begging him to close his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to do it – not when his gorgeous son is dragging his ameture tongue over the head, again and again. Brown eyes look almost black in the dark, glossy as they stare up at him. Phil keeps his hand cupped around the back of Dan’s head, legs trembling with the effort to hold back his impending orgasm because they’ve just started but fuck, he’s so riled up and it’s so good.

“ _ Danny _ .”

The battle to keep his head raised is lost. He arches against the pillow, filthy bliss coursing through his lust-drunk veins, and he comes. With a low moan Phil releases, cock pulsing white, hot come over his son’s lovely lips; Dan makes a surprised sound as it drips down his chin.

“Fuck, Dan. Oh, God.”

Phil bucks along with his orgasm and Dan does his best to continue the sloppy movements of his tongue as the tip fucks shallowly into his mouth. Once milked of everything he has, Phil’s hips collapse against the mattress. He gasps for air, chest heaving and gaze landing back on the ceiling.

Somewhere in the near future, he’s sure there’s a bottomless pit of despair waiting for him. As Dan crawls up his euphoric body and guides his daddy’s hand to his dick, however, Phil thinks he may be okay until dawn. 


End file.
